I have very early memories of sunny, windy San Francisco days at Playland at the Beach that feature me standing in front of the Fun House staring at the huge maniacal laughing clown (To this day I fear clowns.) while pulling bits of cotton candy from a buffeted ephemeral mass and stuffing them into my mouth as my mother cautioned strongly against getting my hair tangled up in the sticky cloud of spun sugar.

The sensation of sweetness melting on my tongue, the so-very-pinkness of the mini-nimbus, the lack of substance that is cotton candy that leaves nothing but gummy fingers and a longing for more, more, more ... is there any wonder that when we came across a vender on the waterfront in Port Louis, Mauritius I was compelled to imbue Sam and Cj with a similar life experience?

Not that this tradition on a stick took much convincing to try; everything about cotton candy is attractive to children, even if they haven't a clue as to what to do with it.

Cj was skeptical about the idea of actually ingesting any of the strangely wonderful fluff, but fully in favor of carrying it around and examining the shine and form and the weightlessness of it.

Sam, being a boy and all, initially thought it made a pretty impressive weapon-like object that might just strike fear into the hearts of ... well, maybe someone with trip to the dentist in their near future?

Once Mom and Dad started pinching of bits, however, the kids cottoned on to the true raison d'etre behind the very existence of spun sugar on a stick, and accompanied by plaintive cries of "Don't get it all over your hair!" managed to get the hang of the pinch, twist, pull, pluck and place that brings a smile, right down to the really nice crisp bits that are stuck to the stick.

Being that the world is what it is, cotton candy isn't cotton candy in other places. To Mark, and everyone else with a British background ... and this includes Mauritians ... it's candy floss, of course a completely new term to my kids.

Call it what you like, though, it was a hit. Such a hit, in fact that the next evening Sam's request for dessert wasn't anything from the menu in the restaurant (By the way, he's gone off chocolate desserts ever since the wedding with the now infamous dessert buffet.), but rather a sincere longing for 'dental floss'.